On a recent warm fall day, I stood on the banks of a stream watching a shiny fall Chinook salmon flop awkwardly on her side, creating a redd to deposit her eggs in. I was elated. Seeing salmon spawn in any stream is thrilling – knowing that the lifeways of these fish often take them hundreds of miles from their birth streams to the ocean, then back again to complete their lifecycle, against huge odds at every stage – but on this day, in this place it felt almost miraculous. This tenacious salmon was in Jenny Creek, which originates in Oregon’s Cascade Siskiyou National Monument and flows south into the Klamath River in northern California. Until last year, the lower end of Jenny Creek had been covered by the stagnant waters of the Copco 1 Reservoir for more than a century. But last year the dams on the Klamath came down and salmon were free to explore the streams of their ancestors for the first time in generations (both fish and human).


The feat of this salmon surviving to adulthood and then a 200 mile journey up the Klamath River is no small one, but is mirrored in this case by the feat of removing the Klamath River dams. I won’t attempt to summarize the enormous, decades-long organizing, advocacy, and political campaign to accomplish it here (check out some of the links below for that context), but this story highlights the tenacity of both people and nature.
For example, it is the Tribal nations and peoples in the Klamath region who lost the most during the era of the dams, and who stand to benefit most from this new era for the Klamath River’s restoration. The people of the Klamath, Shasta, Yurok, Hoopa, and Karuk tribes were not only instrumental in the effort to remove the dams, they are also now playing a major role in the restoration of the river, the salmon, and their ancestral homelands.
Many voices from tribes who call the Klamath watershed home are highlighted in news stories and documentaries, and we urge you to seek these out. Some can be found linked here:
- OPB: After a century of displacement, Shasta Indian Nation sees hope in dam removal
- Ridges to Riffles: Indigenous Conservation Group working on Klamath restoration
- Undammed: Amy Bowers Cordallis and the fight to free the Klamath
- Oregon Field Guide: “After the dams: What’s next for the Klamath River?”
- Underscore Native News: Klamath River Ecosystem is Booming One Year After Dam Removal
- OPB: Indigenous kayakers traverse 6 dam sites on the Klamath River and head for the ocean
- The Guardian: One year after a historic dam removal, teens inspire river restoration worldwide: ‘It turns out you can win’

My visit to the Klamath was organized by friends with the Great Old Broads for Wilderness, and facilitated by staff of Resource Environmental Solutions (RES), the contractor in charge of restoration post-dam-removal. (More about their work on their Klamath River Restoration Story Map) We learned from them and from the president of the Klamath River Renewal Corporation about the political and policy context that led to the agreement to remove the dams, the actual project of taking them down, and the ongoing restoration work in the footprint of the dam and reservoir sites.
On one day, our group worked with RES staff to harvest acorns from native oak trees and then plant them in a part of the reclaimed land behind the removed Irongate dam. A dozen bright orange vests dotted the hillslope, stooping to dig out a spot for a cluster of acorns every 6 feet or so. It was hopeful work. At one point, as I scooped another hole into the old reservoir sediment and poked an acorn into the ground, I glanced up to see a pair of bald eagles landing in a juniper tree across the river. I pointed them out to the wildlife biologist with us and she wisely said, “Look at that. The eagles know the fish are coming back.”


The salmon’s return to the Klamath River was no guarantee, but the careful planning and implementation of dam removal and restoration projects and the innate resiliency of these fish has led to a timeline that has exceeded expectations. Not only did fish show up just days after dam removal was completed, when biologists thought it could take a year, but they are also swimming farther into the watershed. This year, salmon returned to the upper Klamath headwaters, above two more existing dams and through Upper Klamath Lake. (See New York Times “A River Restoration in Oregon Gets Fast Results: The Salmon Swam Right Back“)
“A hundred and fifteen years that they haven’t been here, and they still have that GPS unit inside of them,” said the visibly giddy Klamath Tribal Chair William Ray, Jr. “It’s truly an awesome feat if you think about the gauntlet they had to go through.”
– OPB: Salmon clear last Klamath dams, reaching Williamson and Sprague rivers
For decades, Oregon Wild has advocated for water quality and quantity in the upper Klamath, for conservation efforts to benefit Klamath sucker fish and Chinook salmon, and for protecting the spring-fed headwater rivers of the Williamson and Sprague – where salmon have now returned. And while we share the excitement of Chair Ray (quoted above), many challenges to these goals remain. The upper Klamath basin is still limited by water quality and quantity. As the tenacious salmon begin to explore these upper reaches, can their growing population be sustained? What work, and what changes in policies and practice need to be done and made to help them thrive? Do we (collectively) have the willingness and resources to do that work as federal funding and staff cuts take hold, and agency direction changes? I hope so.
Like the eagles, I hope to return to this newly freed stretch of river to look over the hillsides dotted with young oak trees, native wildflowers in bloom, families floating by in kayaks, and salmon returning to their streams of origin. This landscape still needs time to heal towards that vision, but if the Klamath dam removal project has taught us anything, it is that persistence over time does make a difference, and that this river, the landscape it flows through, the people who call it home, and the salmon and other wildlife that live here are remarkably resilient.












































